


give no quarter

by johnllauren



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Sex, Hate Sex, Historical Hetalia, M/M, Making Out, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pirate England (Hetalia), Pirate Spain (Hetalia), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 10:05:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19104922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnllauren/pseuds/johnllauren
Summary: As soon as the door is closed, Spain’s lips are on England’s, intense, wanting. Before England even has time to respond, Spain has shoved him up against the wall of the captain’s cabin, arms on either side of England’s head. England kisses back furiously, entwining his hands in Spain’s hair.Or, sometimes there's too much tension for one pirate ship, and pirates England and Spain have to get that outsomehow.





	give no quarter

**Author's Note:**

> set when they're pirates  
> give no quarter: show no mercy

As soon as the door is closed, Spain’s lips are on England’s, intense, wanting. Before England even has time to respond, Spain has shoved him up against the wall of the captain’s cabin, arms on either side of England’s head. England kisses back furiously, entwining his hands in Spain’s hair.

“ _Jesus fucking Christ,_ ” England breathes when Spain pulls back from the kiss to mouth at England’s ear, granting him chills. 

“That’s blasphemy,” Spain chides, and England isn’t even sure if the other is being serious. 

“I’ll show you blasphemy.” England responds, and it is serious, as he captures Spain’s lips in another heavy kiss. 

Spain’s hands make their way to England’s blouse as he begins unbuttoning it from the top down, fumbling as England attempts to keep their bodies close. When he succeeds in opening the blouse, his hands travel up and down England’s bare torso. Spain plays with England’s nipple and it is absolutely _obscene_ , but so is the noise England makes in response. 

England breaks the kiss to say a quick, “God, Spain, fuck, _bed,_ ” and Spain nods in agreement. 

Just like that, he stops pressing England into the wall and starts getting his own clothes off. England watches him throw off his coat and undo his cravat as if he’s being forced to, eyes drawn to the exposed skin. Spain doesn’t notice until he’s entirely unclothed and England is still there, but he just says, “Do I have to do everything?” and walks closer, pulling England’s clothes off with no respect for grace or agility and there’s something about it that drives England absolutely mad. 

“Bed,” Spain insists, and then he’s pushing England onto his bed. England lets himself be pushed, but he reaches for Spain as Spain falls on top of him, and then they’re kissing again, just as fervent as before, complete disregard for the structural integrity of the bed. 

Spain tastes like salt, both from the sea air and his sweat. His hair is dry and knotty from the ocean air, but so is England’s; the ocean is a part of them now. Spain bites at England’s collarbone, and England’s hands find their way back to Spain’s hair, pulling it hard in surprise. 

“Be quiet, the crew will hear us,” Spain says, but he’s sucking at the spot on England’s neck he knows is sensitive, so England doubts he means it. When England persists making noise, Spain moves to be face-to-face with England once more. “Do I have to gag you?” He asks, clearly ticked off, but England would have no qualms with that outcome. 

England seizes the opportunity to reunite their lips, and he’s eager, and passionate, and needy. Spain matches the intensity easily. England’s pelvis thrusts up and Spain laughs, moves his hand lower to grant England the attention he wants. 

“Damn you,” England stutters as Spain pulls away, leaves England wanting, reaches into the drawer next to his bed and pulls out a bottle of olive oil given to him as a gift from Greece. He pours it onto his fingers, covers his dick with it. 

He is gentle with England at first, almost so gentle that England can forget they’re fucking as a means to express their aggressions towards each other. England lets out a whine, and Spain clamps a hand over his mouth. “Quiet,” Spain demands, but he doesn’t slow down, his breath hot against England’s ear.

It takes a while for England to gain a semblance of composure, for Spain to find a rhythm, and then they’re both panting in unison. “ _This_ is blasphemy.” England says.

“Not blasphemy, just sodomy.” 

Spain finishes first, spills right into England without hesitation. England moans, takes it, and Spain stays inside him and strokes him off until England follows Spain over the edge.

They collapse onto the bed, unmoving, and remain there for a while.

“We should probably clean this up.” England says, not out of a desire to leave, just to get out of the sticky mess of their own genetic material.

Spain hums his agreement and cleans the area with such efficiency it almost seems routine. He wipes down England’s skin with a tattered white cloth and the touch is no longer sacred-feeling or reverent, they’re back to their usual dynamic. Something about it feels far too cold considering the intimacy of their connection mere minutes ago, but England tries his best to ignore that. Sentimentality had gotten him nothing for the entire duration of his life, and he doubted it would in the future. 

“Goodnight, Spain.” England says then, standing, figuring their transaction - if that’s what this could be called - has come to an end.

Spain nods. “Goodnight.” he says, but he bites his lip. Another mixed signal.

England says nothing, just pulls on his clothes and leaves the room. The door shuts softly behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope starbucks wifi lets me upload porn  
> my tumblr: lafayettesass


End file.
